Our field, which hubby had been carefully tending and which had started to resemble a crown bowling green looked as if a drunk ploughboy on steroids had been let loose on it all night. As well as brown ridges all across the field, the drystone walls which bordered the garden had been knocked down.

The rainy spring had kept the garden growing and the lawn green. Because the house is built on a large outcrop of rock it takes only a few days of rain for our lawn to turn into a lake and the field behind to become sodden. This situation worsened when a water pipe running under the field burst. The water was coming from an old reservoir which we shared with our neighbours and used on the garden during dry spells.

The rainy spring had kept the garden growing and the lawn green. Because the house is built on a large outcrop of rock it takes only a few days of rain for our lawn to turn into a lake and the field behind to become sodden. This situation worsened when a water pipe running under the field burst. The water was coming from an old reservoir which we shared with our neighbours and used on the garden during dry spells.

The rainy spring had kept the garden growing and the lawn green. Because the house is built on a large outcrop of rock it takes only a few days of rain for our lawn to turn into a lake and the field behind to become sodden. This situation worsened when a water pipe running under the field burst. The water was coming from an old reservoir which we shared with our neighbours and used on the garden during dry spells.

With the house finally finished we turned our attention to what we were actually going to do with it. We had been through many ideas, from running a bunk house for walkers, to high-end yoga holidays. We decided on renting the whole house to holidaymakers and I put an advert online.

With the house finally finished we turned our attention to what we were actually going to do with it. We had been through many ideas, from running a bunk house for walkers, to high-end yoga holidays. We decided on renting the whole house to holidaymakers and I put an advert online.

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve I decided to take a break from the kitchen and the tempting calories within, and went for a stroll up our road. Between our house and that of our shepherdess neighbour, I spied a small white van parked haphazardly at the side of the narrow road. Our normally jolly, moustachioed neighbour appeared to be slumped over the wheel.

In the early days, we had been ‘talking’ to our shepherdess neighbour in broken French/Catalan/English when she had told us her son was called Raymond. Since that time we had cheerily called out to him when he went past in his car or we bumped into him at the market. He was always friendly and smiling but we had never really talked. Now, a day after our return from the UK, Raymond was striding across the lawn in a purposeful manner and my heart sank. I was sure that he was going to give us a good telling off for allowing Gyp to chase his mother’s sheep and I put a fixed smile on my face as I went out to greet him.

La Jonquera Eldorado? – or Sodom and Gomorrah? With Basil Howitt « Cette région est devenue la maison close de la France ». (“This region has become France’s brothel.”) Jordi Cabezas, mayor of La Jonquera…